What Is Memory?
by Love Gordon
Summary: A Sort-Of Sequel To Behind The Pom-Poms. Brittany's life post Lawndale... And then some. Watch for the Communist Takeover!


> **What is Memory?** By Love Gordon   
A sort-of sequel to Behind The Pom-Poms. Daria finds a baby in the snow. Quinn   
quits the Fashion Club. Oh, and the United States is almost taken over by Communists... 
> 
> **[Recommended Listening][1]**
> 
> **Part One**   
Quinn peered into the window of Dega Street Books, but she didn't see her sister.   
Suddenly, the door next to her opened. The bell jangled loudly, and Quinn jumped about a   
foot into the air.   
"Eep!" she shrieked.   
"Calm down, Quinn. Too much Ritalin isn't good for your system." Her older sister   
patted her on the back. Quinn still didn't move. Whether she was trying to figure out what   
her sister had said or if she was still in shock was anyone's guess.   
"Come on, Tonto, we've got to get a move on. Christmas shopping's done. Mom's   
going to meet us at the Sound Hole in fifteen minutes, and we'll be late if we don't hurry   
up." said Daria.   
Quinn sighed. "Alright, let's go. Just don't surprise me like that again."   
As they walked off, Quinn asked, "Why do you always call me Tonto?"   
"Someday, I'll tell you, sis..."   
*****   
"Daria..." Quinn muttered. She jogged her elbow. Daria sighed.   
"Yes, Quinn?" she replied. They were standing outside the Sound Hole.   
"I quit the Fashion Club."   
_ "What?!?"_   
This time, it was Quinn who sighed. "It's kind of long and complicated, but since   
there were a lot of openings in the Latin club, I signed up. I really do like Latin!" she said   
to Daria's incredulous face. "But Sandi was being a total jerk about it, so I told her that she   
was full of _faeces tauri_. I walked out of the meeting. The Fashion Club kind of collapsed   
on its butt on my heels."   
"Wow, Quinn. I have to say, I'm impressed." And Daria was. Her sister had done a   
lot of growing up in the last year and a half, while she was away. Now Quinn was a senior,   
she herself in her second year of college. "But won't it look bad on your college   
application?"   
"Daria!" Quinn dissolved in giggles. "You really thought the Fashion Club was a   
_school activity?_ It was just a bunch of really popular freshman girls hanging out together.   
We called ourselves the Fashion Club because Sandi thought it sounded official, though we   
_did_ function as a club until Stacy left last year." Quinn looked sad about the latter.   
_ Too bad_, thought Daria. Stacy had been Quinn's only _real_ friend, and now she was   
in some student exchange program in Australia so she could be with her boyfriend, Ted.   
Quinn spoke up. "Hey, wasn't Mom supposed to be here a while ago?"   
Daria looked at her watch, and at the snow now lightly falling on the road. "Yeah...   
That's weird." She turned on her cell phone. "I'll call Mom."   
*****   
Helen Morgendorffer was stuck. She and Jake would have to rent a hotel room, that   
was all. The office's holiday party was in Leeville, and now, according to the radio   
announcer, the town was snowed in.   
Suddenly her phone rang.   
"Mom! Where are you?" yelped her eldest daughter at the sound of her voice.   
"I'm in Leeville, honey. I almost forgot about this party, and my boss called to   
remind me just in time. By the way, we'll be spending the night: we're snowed in. Why are   
you calling?" Helen replied.   
"You were supposed to pick us up at the Sound Hole thirty minutes ago! And it's   
snowing."   
Helen gasped. "Oh my god, I totally forgot about it. Are you two all right?"   
"Safe and unharmed. However, we're going to turn into popsicles soon. Don't   
worry-" Daria said, anticipating her mother's shriek of anguish, "I'll get one of the Lanes to   
drive us home."   
"Okay."   
They said good-bye and hung up, and Helen flopped onto a couch with sigh. Why   
couldn't she be a better mother? Even Daria took better care of Quinn than she did.   
Jake sat down next to her and handed her a Martini. Well, at least one   
Morgendorffer around here remembered things.   
*****   
"One of the Lanes?" Quinn raised her eyebrow suspiciously. _She_ knew what was   
going on here. "I knew it! You've been seeing Trent all this time! Why don't you _tell_ me   
these things?"   
Daria raised a hand to silence her. "Whoa. Wait a minute, sister. Before you go off   
hitching us up and marrying us in Las Vegas, let's face the facts. Just because he and I both   
live in New York City doesn't mean we're dating. Hell, Jane and I are so busy at Julliard   
and Columbia, respectively, that we don't have time for that sort of thing."   
Quinn frowned at her. "_Daria_..."   
"So we went out for pizza. Once!"   
Quinn kept frowning.   
"Okay, three times."   
"Hm."   
"Quinn, don't look at me like that. So it was three pizzas and a movie!"   
"Hm."   
"Okay, Quinn, you win."   
"...."   
_ "Quinn!"_   
*****   
Daria peered in the window of the Sound Hole. She was slightly startled when the   
door beside her swung open, but only slightly.   
"Hey, Trent." she said. A little too breathlessly. "Quinn and I are stranded here.   
Can you give us a lift home?"   
"Sure thing." he replied with a smile. "Hey, Daria, how's it been?" She hadn't seen   
him in a few days, now that she thought about it.   
"Cool. You?"   
"Yeah. Just checking in with Jesse. I've been in the basement for a couple of days,   
putting in some acoustic tile. We're setting up a recording studio there."   
"Really? I didn't know you two were still working together."   
"Well, since I started my own record label in New York, I thought it would only be   
fitting if Jesse and I were the next ones to ascend to fame." Trent's digital media label had   
been the first to release their music exclusively in mp3 format. Babyboomers screamed in   
outrage. Teens loved it, and immediately propelled PennyLane records to major label   
status. All five of its first signees had gone on to become platinum downloads within a   
week. New technology encoding the files prevented Napster-like happenings from   
sabotaging the label, as well.   
Daria, who ran the website and had played a crucial part in the development of   
PennyLane Records' patented encoding software, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that'd be   
great."   
"Come on, guys, let's head for the car." said Quinn. The three strolled down the   
sidewalk to the car.   
*****   
_A woman in a soft, clingy black dress climbed out of a silver Mercedes. To the_   
_chauffeur, she murmured to keep the car waiting for her. He nodded, and she walked up_   
_the sidewalk with a warm bundle in her arms, swaddled cozily in a thick, grey wool_   
_blanket._   
_ She kissed the child that was the bundle on its forehead. The woman who was_   
_staying inside was someone she knew she could trust with this, her most precious_   
_creation. If only she could keep her baby with her... But it would be dangerous enough._   
_She had to leave._   
_ She pinned the note to the warm blanket._   
**_ Daria,_**   
**_ I know that you, of all people, will be as good and_**   
**_kind to my baby as I, her mother, would be. Her name is_**   
**_Amalia Vivianne, and she is six months old. Trust in me, I_**   
**_will be back for her. If I am not, my lawyers will reach_**   
**_you, for in my will it says where she is. I pray Amalia is_**   
**_not a burden to you, but there is nowhere else to go._**   
_ The woman in black wiped a tear off her cheek and settled her daughter on the_   
_doorstep. Then she walked back to the car, and she was gone._
> 
> **Part Two**   
"A baby on your doorstep?" inquired Jane, once they were safely in the Lane   
fortress, a home familiar with babies and fleeing Morgendorffers. "Do you have any idea   
whose it could be?"   
"No idea," Daria replied, cradling the baby. She was a beautiful little girl, with soft   
golden hair. "The note... well, read it for yourself."   
"Oh, so there's a note?" Daria handed it to her, and Jane quickly scanned it.   
"Interesting."   
Quinn had gone upstairs, to dump her stuff in Penny's room, but Trent, who stood   
behind her, peered over her shoulder curiously. "She's a cute baby." he said. "Nowhere   
else to go, she said?"   
"Yeah. It's really funny. I mean, who do we know who might have a baby?"   
"Jodie- well, we can cross Jodie and Mack off. Amalia's too pale." said Jane   
"Let's call her Molly." Daria said. Right now, Molly was sleeping contentedly. _I_   
_could get used to this_, she thought.   
"'Kay. Andrea-"   
"Straight Edge, and anti-drugs, anti-alcohol activism. Really unlikely."   
"True. Guys?"   
"Upchuck- no one in their right minds would mate with him. Kevin- married and   
working in the fast-food industry. Two kids, with that cheerleader Angie. Ted- in Australia   
with Stacy. They probably haven't even gotten to first base yet."   
"Hmm... Monique?"   
"Jane, she's not only a lesbian, she's a single, lonely, depressed lesbian."   
"She is? How do you know?"   
"I am so happy that there happened to be a bus waiting outside the Zen that night."   
_ "She made a pass at you?!?"_   
"I never said that!"   
Trent cleared his throat. "Umm, Janey, aren't we getting a little off the subject   
here?"   
"You're not freaked out? I'm freaked out! This girl was your girlfriend, Trent!" Jane   
yelped.   
"Look, when she called me Jill when were... you know... I kind of guessed that she   
swung both ways."   
"_Too_ much information!" Daria said, backing away. "Molly doesn't need to hear   
this. Do you, Molly?"   
Molly opened her eyes, smiled cherubicly, and burped.   
*****   
"So, you're quitting school to write a book, work in a record label, and raise a baby   
that was left on your doorstep?" Helen said incredulously. They were in the kitchen of the   
Morgendorffer home.   
Daria nodded. "It was a sign, Mom. My scholarship wouldn't allow enough money   
to feed me and Molly, and I couldn't give her up. She's... mine now. Besides, I'm a CEO,   
not a mere employee. It's a good job. It pays well."   
"Well, Daria, I hope you know what you're doing. I'm just worried about telling   
Jake..."   
"Don't worry, Mom. I broke the news to him. He was playing with Molly. He   
looked at her, then at me, and said, 'Can Grandpa Jakey visit?' Personally, I think he took it   
well."   
"Well enough, indeed. So, where are you staying? Now that you're not going back   
to your dorm and all."   
"I'm crashing at Trent's for now."   
"Trent? Daria, I didn't even know you were _dating_ him. And you're moving in   
_already_?"   
"No, no! It's not like that! I'm just camping out on the couch until I find an apartment.   
Jane's roommate smokes, drinks, and has orgies on Monday nights, so I figured I'd better   
stay clear of her place."   
Helen, who had been standing in front of the stove, plucked the screeching kettle off   
the burner and poured water into two mugs, adding two tea bags in the process. "Good. We   
don't want another headfirst-in-the-guacamole heart attack."   
Daria chuckled. "Just wait until he finds about Quinn quitting the Fashion Club."   
"She quit the _Fashion Club_?"   
"Yeah. Didn't she tell you?"   
Helen shook her head. "She never tells me anything now. Even you told me more   
about what was going on. Now, she just leaves the house and I just have to assume she's   
over at her boyfriend's house."   
"Quinn has a boyfriend? This, I need to hear."   
"That nice Sloane boy you used to date. Thomas?"   
"Tom." Daria raised her eyebrows. "Well, tell her to use protection."   
_ "Daria!"_   
*****   
"So. This is it." Daria eyed the living room, and Trent hoped it would be okay for a   
short stay. He'd fixed up well enough for himself, but seeing it through a stranger's eyes   
made it look a bit shabby. The furnace worked well enough, though; it was still chilly in the   
middle of January.   
"What, you've never seen my apartment before?" he said jokingly.   
"Nope, actually. You moved in, um, probably in early November, I was busy with   
term papers, etc., and I missed the housewarming party because of the flu." said Daria,   
who, in fact, actually wasn't looking so hot.   
"Weird. You feeling okay, Daria?"   
"Not really. I haven't had a decent night of sleep since Molly showed up. I'd kill for   
a night off. She's a sweet girl, Trent, but she has a ravenous appetite at 3 in the morning that   
can't be neglected." Daria sighed. "She's adjusting, but she must have been a terror as   
newborn."   
"Yikes. Listen, why don't you take a nap? I'll look after Molly for a little bit."   
"Trent, you are a saviour sent from God. Her stuff is in the diaper bag." And with   
that, Daria collapsed on the couch.   
*****   
After a night of Molly-watching, Trent began to see why Daria was losing her   
sleep. Molly was a sleepy angel during daytime, but at night she stayed awake. Her   
schedule was getting reset, but it was obvious her mother- whoever she was- must have   
been accustomed to staying up all night for some reason. That was interesting.   
*****   
_ The woman stood up and shook hands with her chief officer. She did not wear_   
_black now, but a loose azure dress that outlined and emphasized her perfect body._   
_ Another, man entered the vast, immense room, and he kissed her on the cheek_   
_half-heartedly. He spoke to her for a moment, and her face fell from its former_   
_enthusiasm. She dismissed her chief, and the woman and the second man, who was quite_   
_tall, sat down at a table._   
_ The woman spoke first. "Amalia is safe. I have made sure of that."_   
_ However, the man shook his head. "With the one you told me about? Won't she_   
_suspect?"_   
_ "She will, Lorenzo. And Amalia will be safest. You didn't know me then. I was not_   
_Ani then." She pronounced Ani as Ah-**nee**._   
_ Lorenzo was not satisfied. "Ani, they will find out."_   
_ "Amalia is not **her** daughter, Lorenzo. She being the girl I was. My name was_   
_different, then. There is much you don't know."_   
_ "Like what?"_   
_ "Amalia's father and I are married. This is a breach of protocol, for he did not_   
_want them to find me, you understand. We would have parted, but by then I was_   
_already..." Ani blushed. "He **will** be found, you understand? If not, I will die trying._   
_Amalia is in better hands than mine."_   
_ "We have a lead."_   
_ "Where?"_   
_ "Uzbekistan."_   
_ "Godspeed, Lorenzo."_   
_ "Goodnight, Ani."_   
_ Lorenzo left the room before he could see Ani's eyes empty with pain. **Where** was_   
_Amalia's father?_
> 
> **Part Three**   
Daria awoke lying on a soft couch in Trent's living. She looked at the time. 10 am.   
Ah, fifteen hours of sheer bliss: sleep. She rolled over and closed her eyes.   
Then she sat straight up. _Where is Molly?_, she thought, panicking. She should have   
been asleep in her crib next to Daria, but no, she wasn't there! Now Daria was worried.   
She knocked on Trent's door, and he came out, carrying Molly.   
"Oh, there you are, Molly!" Daria exclaimed, scooping the little girl up. "Thanks,   
Trent. I was out for hours. You get any sleep?"   
"Yup." Trent replied. "I got up once to give her a bottle and change her diaper, but   
after I put her to sleep with her blanket she dozed off."   
"Her blanket?"   
"Yeah, the one she came wrapped in. Doesn't she always sleep with it?"   
Daria smacked herself on the forehead with her free hand. "So that's why she never   
sleeps! I should've known." She sighed. "I feel just like my mom. I'll never be a good   
mother."   
"Look, you've been re-arranged your entire life to accommodate Molly. I think that   
says something." Trent patted her on the back.   
"I guess. It's just such a hard job. I love her to pieces but-"   
"I know. It would be easier if you didn't have to do it all by yourself."   
"How do you know?"   
"Janey. I was changing diapers before I lost my first teeth."   
"Ouch."   
*****   
Jane's roommate, Cassie (another former Lawndale resident), had just lit up a   
cigarette. She inhaled deeply.   
"Listen, J. I hear ya out. I know ya think Molly-girl's gonna stay here forever, grow   
up, and when's she's in college her real Ma's gonna show up and do the hello routine. But I   
just don't know. The note- it just doesn't sound like a college student ditching a baby on   
somebody's doorstep 'cuz she can't afford to take care of it."   
"Why do you think that?" asked Jane, adding a slash of green to her painting. She   
and the easel stood in front of the room's window.   
"Well, it's to _Daria_, of all people. And somebody's gotta know her schedule well to   
know she's in Lawndale for a week of the Christmas hols. And then there's that shit about   
the will. Come on, who would have a freakin' will unless it's important?"   
"True." Jane frowned in thought. "I'd thought about that myself. Molly's divine,   
Cass, and I'd hate to lose her, but one wonders. Her mom was no illiterate slob. Judging by   
the blanket Molly came with, I'd say she's not poor, either. Who on earth could have parted   
with such a sweet baby, as well? And 'there was nowhere else to go.'"   
"J, can I let you in on a secret?" Cassie took another drag on her cigarette, and blew   
smoke delicately out.   
"Sure."   
"You remember Brittany Taylor?"   
"You bet I do. Blond bimbo, cheerleader?"   
"Yeah. Listen, she wasn't always that way. She- well, she disappeared for about six   
months, after her mom tried to kill herself and left for California. Brit used to listen to riot   
grrrl music, didn't bleach her hair, which was honey blonde, and she was real smart. She   
drew a lot. She wanted to be an artist.   
"When she came back from her hiatus, she transferred to Lawndale's public school system.   
I was her best friend. She came to me, and told me to forget anything that she'd ever said or done before.   
To forget about her. And when she ran away, I always wondered where she really went."   
"She went to California, Cass. To be with her mother." Jane said, mystified.   
Cassie just looked at her. "J., you crack me up. You mean you really thought her   
mom was in California?"   
"She's _not_?"   
"Well, that's where she left for. But everyone knows what happened. Viv Taylor   
missed her connecting flight in Chicago, rented a boat, and drove out on Lake Michigan.   
She had bought one of those fifty-pound benchpress weights in a store somewhere. She tied   
a long rope to it. The other end she tied to her ankle. However, some fisherman saw this,   
and one of them was able to pull her up. It was relatively shallow where she was, her head   
was only five feet below sea level. But she's been in a hospital in New York ever since.   
She's slightly brain damaged from being underwater so long, over a minute."   
"Whoa." Jane was shocked. "So, do you mean that Brittany killed herself?"   
"No one knows. I believe she's alive. She's left tracks, ya know? Over two years ago, can you   
believe it? I know why she left, too."   
"How come? She seemed so happy."   
"She wasn't. When she disappeared the first time, she was committed to Manson Asylum. I   
assume she faked her way out, because I saw her drop her guard at least once after she   
went into bimbo mode. Brit, she was brave, and she was one hell of a good actress, I'll   
give her that."   
"Cass, it's an interesting story, but what does it have to do with anything?"   
"Because I know where she went, when she left. I know that she really did think her   
mother was somewhere in California, because her father hadn't told her, but I also know   
that where she did go, she didn't go to die. Brit took her boots, and when she took them, I   
knew that she was getting out of here, out of her cheerleader persona. No one even realised   
what the boots meant. Idiots. She's walking on this earth, Brit is. And I wondered, because   
she was so like Daria, and Molly's middle name is Vivianne…"   
"Enticing. So..."   
"I suggest that we find her. I think that Brittany Taylor, as we knew her, is dead. But   
I think the girl that was born to that name is here, somewhere. Someone must know   
_something_ about what happened to her."   
"You are getting _way_ too carried away, Cass." Jane shook her head. "It's a   
convincing story, and I will say I didn't know Brittany too well, but I don't believe she   
was capable of that. No one is."   
"Like you say, J., you didn't know Brittany." Cassie stubbed out her cigarette in an   
ashtray. "Ignore me if you want. No one believes me. I know what they did to her in that   
asylum, I do. But no one cares."   
Jane shrugged, and continued painting. Cassie was a little weird, but, hey, she   
didn't mind Jane's paint fumes or loud music, and what more can you ask for in a   
roommate?   
*****   
"We've just signed a big band. A _really_ big band." said Daria.   
Jane looked up from one of her paintings. "Oh?" she inquired.   
"What would you say to Sonic Youth?"   
They were standing in Jane's dorm room, which reeked of turpentine and cigarettes.   
"Um, change the name? But seriously, you signed _Sonic Youth?!?_"   
"Oh yeah. Dinner's on me."   
"Wow! You've got a babysitter for Molly, too?" Jane shrugged on a woolly black   
coat.   
"No. Trent said he'd watch her."   
They went out the door.   
"So you _still_ haven't found a place yet? It's been four weeks."   
"I know. But it's so hard when you're in New York. I don't want to blow my   
budget, but I don't want to live in a hovel either. And I make a _lot_ of money, believe me."   
"How much?"   
"That's none of your business…" Their voices echoed down the hall.   
*****   
_ Deep in a dark warehouse, two men in military uniforms spoke in hushed tones._   
_The younger and taller of them sighed, then walked away. He picked up the cell phone_   
_he'd left in a shadowed crevice as soon as the other man was gone._   
_ He dialed a number: 0151 709 5264_   
_ "Could you connect me to Director St. Maris? Thank you," he spoke into the_   
_phone._   
_ The voice on the other end of the line came through, and he spoke once more._   
_ "Chief? It's Lorenzo. No, we've got the President, but he's not with him. Bush_   
_will be fine, there was no major torture or anything of the sort. Yeah. We'll be en route_   
_to Washington tomorrow. Yes, I know, tell St. Maris we tried, but the guard shot himself_   
_before we could get a word out of him. The Kremlin, definitely. See you Monday."_   
_ Without further ado, the man called Lorenzo hung up the phone, exited the_   
_building, and entered the waiting helicopter._
> 
> **Part Four (A Overview Of The New Government)**   
_An excerpt from Elitist Russia Files on the United States, dated February 2002_   
_ Written by A. Baron_   
Since the destruction of the USA's Executive and most of its Legislative branches of   
government, much has changed, but little affects the average American. The CIA now runs   
the country, with an elite group of members left over from the fall of the Senate   
compromising the Board.   
The Board's chairman is the CIA's president, a very young man, not yet 22, named   
John Ansley. No one knows if that is his real name, but after his predecessor, an incredibly   
wealthy and corrupt man named Rudy Armsworth, was assassinated, Ansley, a young   
agent, rose to power in a _coup d'etat_ of fantastic proportions.   
Armsworth was assassinated the same day that George W. Bush, the newly sworn-   
in President of the United States, was kidnapped by unknown terrorists, on February 1st,   
2001. While no civilians are aware of the fact that these were actually Russian Communist   
forces, the CIA has confirmed this. We, a militant Communist factor called the Elite   
Fighters, had annexed most of Siberia by early January, and we invaded Russia's major   
cities and installed ourselves as the new government on January 21st.   
However, our agents failed to take over the United States as they had planned. The   
House of Representatives was taken hostage and flown to our POW outpost in a remote   
area of Siberia, along with much of the Senate. The President was flown to an unknown   
location.   
With the country in chaos, a keen Ansley named the CIA as the governing force, and   
gathered the shreds of the USA back together to form a functional, if not exactly   
democratic, government. Most Americans consider Ansley a hero. The country still runs   
much as it did before, though now only the Board and their designated subordinates can   
pass laws. All states have ratified the new government.   
The conflict between Elitist Russia and the United States is currently at a stalemate.   
The United States, with its new government and enhanced military, definitely has the upper   
hand. However, there is an government, unknown to the CIA, backing us, that may or may   
not be a force to reckoned with as far as the US is concerned. While, over a year later, the   
two countries have not made a truce or any sort of agreement, any fighting is at a standstill   
and no threats have been made. Unlike during the Cold War in the second half of the 20th   
century, Elitist Russia is not in a position to fund any war, nuclear or not. Our officials are   
more concerned with the Russian people, who, unfortunately, are suffering due to the   
awkward and badly planned governing system. However, with one minor incident between   
the two countries, with Russia being in the wrong, the USA would easily engage in combat.   
On the weekend of June 23-24, 2001, Ansley was captured by our forces, and he is   
being held hostage. We had thought that without him the government would fall, but we   
have since decided that continued efforts to control the USA are fruitless. A woman named   
Annalise St. Maris took control of the chairmanship, though she did not appear in public   
until mid-September, apparently because she was out of the country. Little is known about   
Annalise St. Maris, except that she is the CIA's Director, an undefined position. It is   
possible that this is a token title and a cover for something else.   
While we were interested in Ansley, we are now more intrigued by the director. On   
January 30th, 2002, the CIA's forces recaptured George W. Bush, though they have yet to   
find Ansley. However, the government is run far more agilely and efficiently under St.   
Maris, and she has easily dealt with many disputes and problems since her appointment as   
a temporary chairman.   
It has been ascertained that Annalise St. Maris is not her real name. The real   
Annalise St. Maris seems to have been about the same age, but she died in a New York   
subway accident over two years ago. 
> 
> _ Elitist Russia File on Annalise St. Maris, updated February 12, 2002_   
_ Compiled by A. Baron, R. Gormanoff, and C. Feng_   
**Alias**: Annalise Celeste St. Maris   
**Real Name**: Unknown, but is sometimes called Ani (pr. Ah-_nee_). Some do not   
think this is an abbreviation for Annalise.   
**Stated Birthdate**: October 12, 1980   
** Actual Birthdate**: Late 1981/ Early 1982   
** Age**: about 20   
**Hair Colour**: (uncertain if natural) Honey Blonde   
** Eye Colour**: Pale Blue   
** Skin Tone**: Light   
** Height**: 5'2" to 5'4"   
**Weight**: 110-120 lbs   
**Next Of Kin**: Unknown   
**Other**: Annalise St. Maris is the Director of the CIA. She runs the United States   
and is temporary chairman of the United States Board. Her only known allies in the CIA   
are Agent Lorenzo Harding and Gen. Maxwell Landigan, Chief of the US Military. She is   
rumoured to have been a close acquaintance of John Ansley's, even before his entrance to   
the CIA in 1999. Her reluctance to appear in public before September 13, 2001 is   
unexplained. As far as Elitist Russia Agents have been able to ascertain, Annalise St.   
Maris did not exist before John Ansley took control of the CIA. She is suspected to be one   
of the few who know the true identity of John Ansley, and what his plans and ambitions for   
the CIA are. St. Maris is the only enigma in the workings of the CIA. She was never   
officially a CIA agent, or any type of government agent whatsoever, as far as we can   
determine. However, she is apparently wealthy, as John Ansley is. In short, other than surface   
facts, Annalise St. Maris is a completely unknown factor. 
> 
> **Part Five**   
March already. As Daria sat in a chair next to Molly's crib, she thought about the   
time that had passed.   
In only three months, she'd become a foster parent to this tiny baby girl, dropped out   
of college, and gotten the job of her life. PennyLane Records was signing more bands every   
day, leaving labels like Geffen, Virgin, Capitol, and Warner Bros. way behind in the dust.   
However, she was still stuck in the dust as far as a house went. For all she knew, she'd be   
living in Trent's apartment until Molly graduated from college. Not that the thought wasn't   
appealing, but still...   
Daria looked down at the baby in the crib. More and more, every day, she thought   
of Molly as her own daughter. It was so dangerous. Any day now, Molly's mother could   
appear and take her away. _Oh, God no, I couldn't bear it_. Where would she go, without   
Molly, what would she do? God, she was already thinking about Molly in college, Molly   
in grade school, Molly tomorrow, Molly later today. She was her daughter, if not   
biologically.   
It angered her so. _How_, Daria thought, _does any woman have a right to take back_   
_this baby if she gave her away?_ But she knew Molly's mother did. It was the note. Daria   
knew exactly how that woman felt. She was so afraid for her daughter, she knew that she   
must do what was best for Amalia. Molly. Not matter what happened to her, she would   
make sure Molly was happy and safe. Both of them would.   
But she was interrupted from her reverie by Trent, who threw open the door   
joyously.   
"Daria! PennyLane Records is being honored by the Chairman of the United States   
Board for our innovative technology! She's going to present me, you, and Jesse with an   
award in May, at the annual Technical Innovation Awards," he announced excitedly.   
"Wow!" exclaimed Daria in surprise. Trent scooped her up in a big hug and planted   
a kiss on her lips before either one of them had time to think.   
"_Wow_." said Daria a little breathlessly.   
*****   
Cassie sat on a bench outside the New York Public Library. She lit up the cigarette   
and inhaled deeply. _Damn! Why do things like this always happen to me?_, she thought.   
The wind blew her long, dark cherry hair into tangles. She sat there for almost an hour.   
When she went home, she lit up a joint of marijuana, grabbed her boyfriend, and mellowed   
out.   
When Jane came home that night she found her roommate lying on her bed. The   
room smelled of smoke and ashes, and the window was open. It was freezing, and Cassie   
wore only a thin tee-shirt.   
By the time the room was warm and food was on the table, Cassie was somewhat   
cognizant, but she didn't really make any sense until the next morning.   
"J, girl, we've got an interesting situation on our hands. I went to the library to   
research my project on art in NYC, and used the computer system there, 'cuz my internet's   
down for repair until tomorrow. Look what I found."   
Jane looked at the document. It seemed to be a newspaper clipping from the   
previous year. Someone had scanned it in and left it for the internet archives of that   
particular newspaper, _The Berkeley Herald_. It read: 
> 
> **_New Art From Promising East Coast Artist August 30, 2001_**   
_ Tonight, the Moonview Gallery here in Berkeley, California, is exhibiting a show_   
_of a wonderful New York artist, Ani Armsworth. Her last show was in February of the_   
_this, and she has some great new material._   
_ "I like her grasp of the concept and depth of color," says Prof. Ralph Jamison of_   
_Armsworth. "Also, she's a magnificent painter. I love those black-and-white photos of_   
_Amalia, where she's painted her into color and all else is monochrome."_   
_ Did we mention that all of this artwork is featuring her newborn daughter,_   
_Amalia Vivianne? Her paintings and sketches feature her baby girl, who was born just_   
_two months ago. It was quite a spur-of-the-moment show._   
_ The artist on the show:_   
_ "I'm delighted that everyone is so excited about the show. I was afraid it was too_   
_much of a transition from my 'ROCKST*R' series, but all the people I've seen were quite_   
_happy about it. Amalia's timeless, but I think rock stars can get kind of old."___
> 
> _ For pictures and more information about Ani Armsworth, check out her website_   
_at **www.ani-star.com**_
> 
> "I printed out the pictures. It's Molly. She even has the grey wool blanket." Cassie   
said.   
Jane shook her head in disbelief. "My god. It's eerie. Well, at least we know Molly   
isn't Brittany's daughter."   
Cassie nodded. "How are we going to tell Daria?"   
"I don't know, Cass, I really don't know."   
*****   
_"Shit, Lorenzo! First your soldiers screwed up and let the guard blow his head_   
_off, then you decide **I** have to present this freaking award to these PennyLane people! I_   
_should blow **your** head off, just to see how you like it!" Ani raged. She was in her office,_   
_the vast room where they had last visited._   
_ Lorenzo was wide-eyed with surprise. "Jesus, Ani," he said, "Don't take it so_   
_harsh! We're going to find Armsw-"_   
_ She smacked him across the mouth. Both stood still with shock. Then she spoke in_   
_a hush._   
_ "Don't ever forget that Elitist factions invaded this country and kidnapped our_   
_democracy. They even made it through my husband's defenses, and they took him too._   
_He's hardly even seen Amalia. Our baby. One slip, and- she may not be there for him to_   
_see._   
_ "You just made a slip, Lorenzo. PennyLane's CEO is a girl I knew in high school._   
_You should have **asked** me first. I don't know if I can fake my way through this one. I_   
_know that her best friend is rooming with Cassie at Julliard. Do you realize what that_   
_means?"_   
_ "Cassie... She's the one who-"_   
_ "The one who's been right on our trail, searching for me. She was a friend, a_   
_good friend, long ago, and she refuses to believe I'm dead. I'm worried about Berkeley's_   
_article. She's been asking about Ani Armsworth. If the Elitist agents make the_   
_connection-"_   
_ Lorenzo gulped. "Shit."_   
_ "Yeah."_
> 
> **Part Six**   
Molly giggled as Daria tickled her feet. She was playing with her toys on the floor,   
and it was a fine May night .   
"Now, you be a good little girl for Jane, or no apple sauce tonight, okay?" the latter   
said, smiling.   
"Don't worry, we'll be _fine_. I've got the window open so the paint fumes won't   
bother her. I know your cell phone number, etcetera, etcetera. You guys just go out and   
_enjoy_ yourselves," Jane said with an evil smirk.   
"Jane!" Daria yelped. Despite the fact that she had cheerfully given up her   
apartment search over a month ago, Jane was still a yenta-ing the hell out of her.   
"We'll be back by midnight," said Trent, and he whisked his girlfriend out the door.   
Jane locked the door behind them and resumed painting. It was a pretty ordinary   
night, as things went. She and Molly ate dinner, played for a while, and then Jane tucked   
her sleepy charge into her crib.   
As Molly slept, Jane stood over her crib. She still hadn't told Daria about Molly's   
mother, and truthfully, she didn't intend to. Not until she knew the full story. She'd   
mentioned having an old friend by the name of Ani Armsworth who thought she knew   
Daria, the other day, and Daria hadn't recognized the name. Yet this Ani woman obviously   
knew Daria. You only had to read the note. _"...there is nowhere else to go." "I know that_   
_you, of all people, will be as good and kind to my baby as I, her mother, would be."_   
Who was this Ani Armsworth? She was a complete mystery. All Jane knew was   
that she was an artist, and she had given birth to a daughter, that, if not Molly, was her   
identical twin or something. A total enigma.   
Come to think of it, couldn't she do some sort of check on this Armsworth person,   
just to see about who she was? To find out about Molly, so that someday, when the little   
girl asked, _"Aunt Janey, who's my real Mommy and Daddy?"_, she could answer?   
Jane sat on the bed (where Molly's crib now resided next to) and booted up Daria's   
computer. In a matter of minutes, she was online and reading what she was searching for.   
_**Armsworth, Amalia Vivianne**, born to Ani and Jonathan Armsworth, Tuesday,_   
_June 17, 2001, at the New York City Hospital, in New York, New York._   
She next performed a search on Ani and Jonathan Armsworth, guessing that their   
certificate of marriage would have been from NYC as well. It took a moment for her to   
realize what she was seeing.   
**_B. (Ani) Louise Taylor and Jonathan Randolph Armsworth_**   
_ Married November 12, 2000_   
_ St. Lucas's Chapel, 1245 Donahue Lane, NY, NY._   
Below was more information about the bride and groom, but she didn't need to read   
it. Jane already knew. Why hadn't she believed Cassie? But never mind _that_-   
Donahue Lane was ten minutes away.   
*****   
When Daria arrived home that night Jane seemed unusually edgy, but she didn't   
think much of it. Probably just jitters from being caffiene-deprived, something that often   
happened to her friend. She'd done a good baby-sitting job, though. Molly was sound   
asleep, something that didn't happen often.   
Quick as a wink, Jane was out the door, out of the apartment. Daria shrugged this   
off, as well, inventing more excuses for her friend. What did it matter? It was probably just   
some little insignificant thing...   
*****   
At 11:39 pm, Jane knocked on the office door of the church. Surprisingly, the light   
had been on, and, sure enough, a man opened the door. He was a short, round man was   
curly white hair, probably in his late fifties.   
"Hello, I'm Father Kirkpatrick. What can I do for you?" he said, with a heavy Irish   
brogue.   
"I'm searching for an old friend, who was married here about a year and half ago.   
My name is Jane Lane," she replied, extending her hand. The priest shook it, and invited   
her in his office.   
"Come in. I believe we may have the records you're looking for, though I don't   
know if they will have any information that will help you locate her. What is your friend's   
name? Can you give me the date?" said Father Kirkpatrick.   
Jane stepped into the office and shut the door behind her. "She was Brittany Taylor   
when I knew her, and she was married to Jonathan Armsworth on November 12, 2000."   
Father Kirkpatrick stepped into a back room, emerging a minute later with a book   
in his hand. He flipped it open to November 12th.   
"Ah, here we go. Brittany Louise Taylor and Jonathan Randolph Armsworth. They   
didn't leave any other information, but, in fact, I do remember this couple. I had just   
transferred from a parish in Dublin, and I watched Father Roberts perform the ceremony.   
Your friend was very young, blonde? Yes, a blonde. I remember her husband much better,   
though. He was a very nice man, about a year or so older than her. Looked a lot like that   
John Ansley fellow. From a parish near SoHo, he said. Of course, I didn't question him."   
"Do you remember anything else?"   
"Actually, I do. They were moving into a house on Manhattan. On Moore Drive. I   
remember that very distinctly, because the girl was very quiet, almost silent, throughout the   
entire ceremony, and very distant afterword, but she did mention the house. I was talking to   
her husband, and she said, 'We're moving to Moore Drive, and we've got a house with a   
cupola.' She seemed very pleased about it. Apparently there aren't any other houses with   
cupolas on Moore Drive."   
*****   
_Ani unlocked the door to her home in New York that night, opening the door just_   
_wide enough to slip in without out Pixie or Megan, the cats, being able to slip out._   
_Sliding down onto the floor, she leaned against the door and sighed._   
_ She'd been staying here since yesterday. The technology awards were only two_   
_days away, in Carnegie Hall, no less. She was so, so worried. They would know her,_   
_Trent and Daria both._   
_ The phone in the hallway rang, and she answered it._   
_ "Hello," she said, still sitting. "Lorenzo?"_   
_ A long pause stretched between "Lorenzo?" and her next words._   
_ "Oh, **no**. Dear God, is he- You don't know. I'll be there as soon as I can."_   
_ She hung up the phone, flung open the door, and saw Jane Lane pulling up in her_   
_driveway._   
_ "Screw the government," she muttered. Ani shut and locked the door, and walked_   
_down the driveway._   
_ She tapped on Jane's window. Jane promptly rolled it down._   
_ "Jane? It's me, Brittany. Could you possibly give me a ride to Washington,_   
_D.C.?"_
> 
> **Part Seven**   
"So, how did you find me?" Brittany asked her once they were on the road.   
"Article in a Berkeley newspaper," Jane replied. "From there, Amalia's birth   
announcement in the paper, your marriage license, and Father Kirkpatrick. He said it was   
the house with the cupola."   
"Good. I'm glad it wasn't Cassie. Now, I've _finally_ outwitted her. She knows about   
the marriage, but she wasn't able to talk to Father Kirkpatrick. Thank god. You know where   
we're going, right?"   
"Yeah. I listened to the newscast on AM WETT 580, and everything clicked.   
Especially when you wanted to go straight to D.C."   
"They've finally got Jonathan out of that hell. But... they didn't say if he would be..."   
"Look, he's hung on for a year in China. Now that both China's and Elitist Russia's   
governments have crashed, and he's in a nice, safe hospital, he's got a good chance of   
survival, I'd say."   
"Don't you ever call a hospital safe! What he went through at Manson-"   
"Manson wasn't a hospital. It was a freaking _slaughterhouse_. How do you think   
Andrea turned out like she did?"   
"Her, too?"   
"Her mother signed her in. It was two years before her father got custody and got   
her out of there. She's never been the same. Some people there did have real problems, but   
most were just... different."   
"I know. Jonathan was signed in by his uncle, who wanted the family fortune he had   
custody of until Jonathan's eighteenth birthday. He did have an incident with drugs, but he   
was totally clean by the time I met him."   
"Was Rudy Armsworth Jonathan's uncle?"   
"Actually, no. He was his mother's cousin, and when Jonathan got out of Manson,   
Rudy gave him a place to live, and later, a job. The corruption stories had little base in the   
truth. Jonathan was a very good agent, to give him credit."   
"So, what is America going to know about Molly?"   
"Molly? Oh, you mean Amalia. Well, now that it's safe, I'm planning to come clean   
about our identities."   
"That's all good and well, but what about Daria?"   
Brittany sighed. "Well, Jane, I figure I'll just have to tell her, after John gets out of   
the hospital. I hate to do that. She's Molly's mother as much as I am, and Daria was always   
the person I admired in high school. If I hadn't been in danger of being sent back to Manson   
if I acted normal, we would've been friends. How _is_ Amalia?" She hastily changed the   
subject. "I mean, Molly, since I guess that's what we'll be calling her now."   
"Molly is crawling all over the place. She took her first steps a month ago, in April.   
She's a sweetheart." Jane smiled, thinking of the little girl.   
"I remember. I didn't officially take up my duties as chairman until September, so I   
could spend time with her. She was all I had, with Jonathan gone."   
"He'll be okay."   
"I hope so."   
*****   
Two days later, word came over the television, radio, and internet that Chairman   
John Ansley was going to live, and had been moved out of the ICU in the Washington   
hospital where he was a patient. Fireworks were set off that night in every town.   
In a city called New York, a man, a woman, and a baby girl called Molly sat on a   
balcony and watched the fireworks' glow. With them were two other women. Both were   
famous in their own ways. One was a brunette.   
The other was a blonde. 
> 
> THE END   
  

> 
> **What is Memory?** copyright January 2001 by Love Gordon   
Brittany, Kevvie, etc belong to MTV, but she's protected by that Supreme Court decision   
regarding dervitave content, yadda yadda yadda. But if you steal her story, there are many   
other Supreme Court decisions she can list that will say exactly what happens to YOU.   
(vague mention of relatives in Mafia.) 
> 
> **Notes**: I have nothing against Communists, they were just the people that, in this story, were   
the villains. Remember, communes worked fine for many people in the sixties. I hope I   
didn't offend anyone, Russian, Chinese, Communist, or otherwise.   
You can reach me at [zer0_gurl@yahoo.com][2], now, with your complaints or words of thanks.   
Whatever the hell you want. 
> 
> **XOXO**: Thanks to my friends, esp. Fangso and Pean. These two were my inspiration for   
Elitist Russia, since they're militant communists factors in their own right. Also, thanks to   
family, and fellow fanfic writers. And to YOU, the reader, because you need an ego-   
enhancing statement to convince you to read more of this drivel... not! 
> 
> **Recommended Listening:**
> 
> **Albums That Convey General Mood of Story**   
_Sonic Youth, **Dirty**_   
_Smashing Pumpkins, **Machina II: Friends And Enemies Of Modern Music**_
> 
> **Soundtrack That Makes Me Recommend Having Napster And/Or My Record Collection**
> 
> **Part One**_: Sonic Youth, **Drunken Butterfly**_   
**Part Two**_: Bratmobile, **Panik**_   
**Part Three**_: Boredoms, **Super Going**_   
**Part Four**_: Butthole Surfers, **Goofy's Concern**_   
**Part Five**_: Smashing Pumpkins, **Home**_   
**Part Six**_: Beck, **Devil's Haircut**_   
**Part Seven**_: Sonic Youth, **Theresa's Sound-World**_

   [1]: #listen2somecoolshit
   [2]: mailto:zer0_gurl@yahoo.com



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